


to smooth that rough touch

by kay_emm_gee



Series: red strings and wordless looks (teen wolf prompts) [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 11:50:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7102063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_emm_gee/pseuds/kay_emm_gee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why don’t you tell me where it doesn’t hurt and then I can start there?”</p>
<p>Mulishly, Lydia raised her elbow and pointed to the bone. “There.”</p>
<p>With a grin, Stiles reached forward and pinched it in retaliation.</p>
<p>“Hey!” Lydia cried out. Despite the indignant reaction, she couldn’t fight the smile on her face, because the teasing light in Stiles’ eyes was doing more to ease her pain than his wound-tending was.</p>
<p>{ Prompt: Stydia plus the scene between Indiana Jones and Marian Ravenswood in Raiders of the Lost Ark where he's injured and complaining because his injuries are painful so she asks him where it doesn't hurt and kisses those spots. "We can't catch a break can we?" }</p>
            </blockquote>





	to smooth that rough touch

The safehouse was lit only by candlelight as Stiles dabbed at Lydia’s wounds.

She flinched as he pressed too hard. “Ouch.”

“Ouch!”

“ _Ouch!_ ”

Stiles exhaled harshly, putting down the wet washcloth. Lydia glared up at him, scratched and bloody and weaker in body but not in spirit. That wasn’t the case with Stiles. She knew that watching her die–she was always nearly dying–made a part of him do the same each time. They had gotten the talisman in time, but the cost were injuries aplenty, though she had borne the brunt of them. She mustered up some attitude, hoping it would reassure him that she wasn’t too badly off.

“I knew I should’ve asked Scott,” Lydia complained as she struggled to sit up in the musty-smelling cot. The effort cost her, and she couldn’t hide her wince from his watchful eyes.

Stiles narrowed his gaze. “Well, Scott had to go deliver the talisman before midnight, so you’re stuck with me. Besides, I don’t think the werewolf would’ve had a gentler hand.”

“A more careful one though,” Lydia sniped back, though it lacked any real bite. “Your clumsiness is making want to leave these things as they are.”

“Go ahead. Let them get infected. That won’t cause you any pain at all,” Stiles deadpanned as he waved the cloth around.

Rolling her eyes, Lydia pinched his thigh. “Shut up.”

“Why don’t you tell me where it _doesn’t_ hurt and then I can start there?”

Mulishly, Lydia raised her elbow and pointed to the bone. “There.”

With a grin, Stiles reached forward and pinched it in retaliation.

“Hey!” Lydia cried out. Despite the indignant reaction, she couldn’t fight the smile on her face, because the teasing light in Stiles’ eyes was doing more to ease her pain than his wound-tending was. She held his gaze for a beat, then two, then several more; it stretched into a moment where everything slipped away–everything but Stiles and the way in which he looked at her, as if there wasn’t anything else in the world worth looking at.

Her breath caught, but she couldn’t catch herself before she said, “Well then, are you going to kiss it better?”

Stiles blinked at her, lips parting in confusion. Slowly, Lydia lifted her arm again, pointing her elbow in his direction. Then she raised her eyebrows in challenge.

“If you insist,” he said slowly before leaning down to place a whisper of a kiss against the bone. She expected the warmth, but the excited shiver it sent through her took her off guard. When he spoke again, she nearly missed it.

He repeated himself, reading her so well (he always read her so well). “Anywhere else that needs a kiss to make it better.”

Lydia lifted her rope-burned palm. “Here.”

Stiles obliged, and she bit her lip to keep a satisfied sigh from escaping. Cocking his head, he stared questioningly at her. She sent him a wry smile that slipped towards coy as she tapped her nose. He kissed her there, then let his mouth slip down to brush against her cheek. She sucked in a breath because the scrapes there were still raw. In response, Stiles tried to quickly pull back, but before he could start apologizing Lydia gripped his chin and captured his mouth with hers.

“I said kiss it better, Stiles,” she murmured while they both took an unsteady breath. “Don’t you ever listen?”

He chuckled, and then he was the one kissing her, eager but careful, a little messy but so loving, the type of kiss she’d never had or imagined wanting but the one that she now knew she so very desperately needed. She cupped his face to keep him close even as the cabin door slammed open. Lydia kept her eyes closed–trying to stay in her moment with Stiles–even as Scott choked out an apology from the doorway.

“We can’t catch a break, can we?” Stiles sighed against the corner of her mouth.

She let out a dry laugh, smoothed her thumbs over his lips, and then pulled away to ask Scott what he needed of them now.

If she’d survived this much so far, she’d make it past tonight and then she and Stiles would have all the time in the world to kiss for other reasons than easing pain. Of that, she was absolutely sure, and she told Stiles so by slipping a hand into his and squeezing.

He squeezed back in understanding as Scott began to speak, and Lydia smiled.


End file.
